After a fortnight without Cameron, Mary thought she had become accustomed once again to being on her own, with no one to confide in. She and Seona had come to an uneasy accommodation and Mary had not caught her and the guardsman in a compromising situation since that first morning. Seona had never again mentioned the bargain she’d offered. But Mary could feel Seona watching her, much as she watched Seona. Carefully, quietly. And with no little malice. Still, life had taken on a comfortable, if not comforting, routine. Not quite what it had been before Seona’s arrival, or even before Cameron’s. But predictable enough that Mary had started to let down her guard.

When her father stood and called the clan to attend him at the end of the midday meal, Mary was only mildly curious. A glance at Seona made her straighten. The lass looked pleased and satisfied, even before Mary’s father started speaking.

“Clan Rose is an old and powerful clan,” he began.

Mary frowned, suddenly certain where this was leading. Her father was not usually given to exaggeration, nor was he one for making speeches. Rose might have been a powerful clan, but its influence had waned along with its strength.

“Some have said its future is in doubt, but doubt nay longer.” He turned to Seona and smiled. “Yer new lady is with child.”

Mary clenched her jaw as he raised his glass to his bride of only a few weeks. Seona had warned of this. Whether she was truly with child or not, she was consolidating her position, and weakening any argument Mary might make against her.

“To Lady Seona, may ye give me, and Rose, a strong, healthy son.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet as the clan members in the hall cheered their new lady.

Mary forced a smile to her lips. She wanted the same as her father, after all. A male heir—but of his line, not the guardsman’s. Though either, if her father claimed the lad, would eventually free her from her responsibilities to Rose. She would have choices. Poor Seona would have none. If she birthed a son, Da would want another as a spare. As many sons as she could give him. Lads to ensure the posterity of James Rose’s line. His eldest daughter would serve no purpose in the succession. Her only value would lie in forging an alliance through marriage. At least her father would no longer need her to remain at Rose. So she smiled and nodded to her father as he reveled in this moment. For reasons of her own, so did she.

Two hours later, a lad brought her a summons from the healer to come to her father’s chamber. The lad looked scared and sad. Concerned, Mary hurried to the door. Could Seona already have lost the babe she claimed to be carrying? So soon after her father’s prideful announcement? She feared it would break his heart. If the pregnancy was real, she couldn’t guess what Seona’s reaction would be. But in any case, the loss of the bairn would be a loss for the whole clan.

Her father sat in a shaft of light from the open window on the edge of his bed, pale and shaking. He wore his linen shirt, a plaid and a fur throw draped over his legs. The healer stood over him, holding his left wrist in her capable hands. His new bride sat in a tufted chair near the hearth. Wrapped in a rich brocaded robe and woolen shawl, she remained still and silent as a wraith, her expression no more revealing than usual. Mary could guess what they’d been doing, but she didn’t want to know.

“What happened?” Mary asked, entering the chamber. “Is the bairn all right? Da, why are ye…”

“'Twas a wee tremor, naught more,” Da replied. “Likely from too much whisky. They shouldna have sent for ye. I am well.”

Mary gasped, at once relieved Seona had not lost the baby and concerned at her father’s sudden illness.

“Are ye?” the healer responded. “Make a fist for me, then.”

“Let go of me, ye daft auld woman.”

“Make a fist and I’ll let ye be.”

He made a fist with his free hand and swung it just under her nose, but stopped before he hit her. “Release me,” he snarled.

She didn’t budge, merely looked down at his left hand. She’d set it on the bed when he swung at her with his other hand.

She pointed. “Ye didna feel that, did ye?” He inhaled and she held up a hand to silence his denial. “Ye have developed a terrible palsy in yer left hand and lower arm. Ye didna feel the difference between it being held in my hand and lying on the bed. I could cut off yer arm below the elbow and ye’d no’ ken it ’till ye saw the blood spurt. Now will ye listen to me?”

Mary sank into the other hearthside chair, her knees suddenly weak. “What does this mean?”

“It means yer da is getting older than he’d like to admit, wed to a lass who could be his youngest child. Pah!” She spared a frown for Seona, who stared at the low flames in the hearth and, except for a slight narrowing of her brows, didn’t seem to notice she’d been disparaged. “Wearing himself out, most likely. A strain he can scarce afford, keeping up with a lass her age.”

“Silence, ye auld witch,” her father snarled. “I’ll no’ hear this in my own chamber, certainly no’ before one of my daughters.”

“I helped the auld healer birth ye,” the healer responded. “I dinna plan to wash yer body before they plant ye. But if ye have more of these episodes, I may have to. ’Tis a good thing she’s carrying,” the healer continued, matching her laird snarl for snarl and gesturing toward his silent bride. “Now ye’ll have to leave her be. Ye could use the rest.”

Mary couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her father was that ill? Then she noticed a lift at the corners of Seona’s mouth. Not quite a smile…yet.

Her father pushed the healer’s hand away. “I dinna need…”

“Ye are ill, James. Face it, and take care of yerself, or worse may happen.”

Suddenly terrified, Mary couldn’t remain still. She stood while her father objected to the healer’s demands.

“Canna be ill,” he muttered. “Must no’.” His gaze slid from the healer to Seona, then to Mary. “I canna leave Rose in the hands of a pregnant young wife or in Mary’s alone.”

Seona’s gaze cut to him. She frowned, then quickly smoothed it away.

A shiver ran down Mary’s spine. What had Seona planned? Mary found herself willing to consider the notion that her father’s new wife was poisoning him. Yet it made no sense. His headaches had started before the trip to Grant. “Ye’ll be fine, Da. Just rest. Seona will be a good wife to ye and give ye sons. Just be patient.”

Seona settled back in her chair and crossed her arms, looking satisfied. A cat replete, with cream still on her whiskers. Seona’s mask was slipping.

“Ye will stay at Rose,” he demanded, his gaze skewering Mary, dark and fierce until he blinked. “Ye will no’ leave me until the babe comes and the succession is settled. I’ll let ye go then, make whatever match ye wish. I willna argue then if ye dinna argue now.”

Her father had to be frighted to bargain with her. The revelation sickened her. She hated to see him vulnerable and weak, no matter how much of a tyrant he could be. Mary shook her head. “I wouldna leave ye ill and worried, Da. Ye ken me better than that.”

Yet with that promise to her father, she knew in her bones she’d sealed her fate. After this, even if her father recovered fully, he’d depend on her more than he had in the past. He didn’t trust Seona's competence to run Rose, and with good reason. Mary knew she’d have to be more involved to help raise and train any male child, any brother, she thought with a shiver, when, or if, he came along, no matter who sired him. She considered again whether she should have told her father what she suspected, but one look at him now and she knew she could not add to his burdens. Not now. Perhaps never. To protect her father, she might be forced to accept another man’s child as the heir to Rose.

Still, she would not leave her father at Seona’s mercy. Seona’s expressions, subtle as they were, worried her. Her father had first gotten ill before the wedding, even before the trip to Grant, but that didn’t prevent Seona from doing something to make him worse. Her father’s life—and perhaps, her own, might be at risk, as she’d feared before the wedding. The Grant guardsmen within the keep would do Seona’s bidding without question. And what Mary could do against her father’s lawful wife, she didn’t know. Watch and wait, and hope for the best, she supposed. She crossed her arms over her chest and indulged for a moment in wishing Cameron was here. His powers of observation were better honed than hers. He might notice things she missed.

* * *

Mary was in the kitchen discussing the evening meal with the cook when a lad ran in, calling for her. She turned to the lad, heart in her throat. Was her father worse? “What’s amiss?”

“Visitors at the gate. The guard told me to fetch ye,” the lad replied, then ran out again.

Mary took a breath and traded a look with the cook.

“That lad canna stand still,” the cook reminded her. “Everything is urgent around him. But what I’d give to have his energy!” She laughed, then sobered. “So, ye will send the lad back to tell me how many more mouths I’ll have to feed, aye?”

“Of course.” Mary smiled and took a breath of air thick with the comforting scents of baking bread and bubbling stew. Cook had been trimming a venison roast when Mary entered. That would go on the fire soon. Despite the cook’s concern, they would have plenty to feed unexpected guests. “Perhaps some apple tarts, as well, then?”

“I’ll check the larder. I believe the lads brought in a basket of new-picked apples this morning.”

“Thank ye.” Mary took her leave and headed outside. It wouldn’t do to leave visitors waiting at the gate. Unless they were Irish gallowglass men. But the lad’s summons didn’t include any hint of concern from the guard. Likely he just needed her approval to allow the visitors into the bailey.

“Who is it?” she asked when she got the guard’s attention.

“MacBeans, my lady. Asking for ye.”

Mary’s breath froze in her chest. MacBeans? For a wild moment, she imagined Dougal, her former hoped-for betrothed, at the gate. But surely not. Dougal had abandoned her and married another. So why would MacBeans be at Rose gates now?

“Let them in,” she commanded, then returned to the steps leading into the keep to await their arrival.

The gate swung open and four men rode in, Dougal in the lead.

The ground tilted below Mary’s feet and she dragged in a breath to steady herself.

He dismounted and approached the steps where she stood rooted. He stared up at her but stopped before he reached the lowest step. “Mary Elizabeth Rose, I’m so pleased to see ye.”

Mary studied him, surprised at how much he’d changed. Glints of silver shot through his hair, and lines creased the skin around his eyes. He looked tired. “I am surprised to see ye, Dougal. What brings ye to Rose?”

“As ever, ye do.”

Mary’s head jerked back and she clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. She’d given up on Dougal long ago. Seeing him now—how could he think she would welcome his return?

Dougal gestured toward the door behind her. “Can we talk inside? And perhaps get some food and drink for my men?”

“Of course,” Mary replied. “I’m forgetting my manners. The lads will care for your horses in the stable. Come inside and get warm.” She ascended the last few steps and entered the great hall. Stopping the first serving lass she reached, she requested ale, bread and cheese for the MacBeans, then led the men to the hearth.

“Ye have ridden a long way,” she said as she gestured them to pull a bench over and place it near the fire. “Ye must stay the night.”

“Thank ye,” Dougal answered. “We will have more time to talk. Is there somewhere we could be private?”

A frisson tingled along Mary’s nerves. “Follow me.” Reluctant, she led him to a room off the hall and gestured to a seat by the small hearth. “Why are ye here, Dougal?”

For a moment, he looked flustered, then he straightened and met her gaze. “I’m here to see if there’s still anything between us. If ye have forgiven my youthful impatience. I was younger then and frustrated with yer father. I married in haste.”

Mary stiffened, not liking the implication, and needing to confirm the rumor she’d once heard that he was widowed. “Ye are nay longer wed?”

“She died in childbed a year ago. It took so long for her to get with child, we were elated, but in the end…” He shook his head. “I never loved her as I loved ye, but she was good to me, and she died trying to give me a son. I do miss her.”

Mary supposed his sentiment spoke well of him, despite what he’d done to her. Tragedy sometimes matured men. Dougal, it seemed, had seen his share of sorrow. “But now that a year has passed, ye are ready to wed again, is that it?”

“I wouldna put it so baldly, but aye. I’ve held ye in my heart all these years, Mary. I never heard ye had wed, and given yer father, I believed ye might still be an unwed maiden, so—here I am. Can ye forgive me? Can we try again?”

Mary’s head felt light. Could she? Cameron had gone to Sutherland, perhaps never to return. They’d become close, and while more attraction seemed to sizzle between them than she’d ever felt for Dougal, they’d done little to act on it. He’d never asked her father for her hand. He was accustomed to going where his father sent him, gathering information. He probably considered marriage something for his distant future, if at all. While he’d been determined to defend her claim to be the Rose heir, which they both knew might become hers someday, he’d never even suggested he might want to stand at her side as her consort if it ever came to pass. If Seona failed to produce a son.

“I dinna ken,” Mary finally said. “A lot has happened since then.”

“Did ye wed after all? Are ye a widow?”

“Nay, I didna. I am no’.”

“Then allow me to remain and court ye. Once we get reacquainted, I hope ye will look upon me with fondness—and more. A chance to offer for ye would make me most happy.”

“My father is no’ well,” Mary told him. “He may be little disposed to hearing offers, as he depends on me.” Mary knew how stiff and formal that sounded, but she needed to slow things down. To make Dougal realize he could not simply come here and offer for her and expect to be wedded and bedded so easily.

“But I was told he recently married.”

“He did, to a much younger wife, who is slow to accept the responsibilities of her position. I fear the burden remains mine for the foreseeable future.”

Dougal took her hand. “Are ye trying to discourage me, Mary?”

Cameron’s Mary-my-love echoed from her brain to her heart and back again. But he wasn’t here, and while Dougal’s betrayal had proven him unreliable, since then, he’d married and lost a wife he cared for. Perhaps he’d grown up. If she ever hoped to have a family of her own, what choice did she have? She had thought herself in love with Dougal years ago. Despite the way he’d hurt her, could she learn to fall in love with him again? “Nay,” she said, throwing caution to the wind. “I am no’ trying to discourage ye. Ye may stay. But if I ask ye to leave, ye must agree to go without argument. If ye canna agree, ye may only stay this night and must be gone in the morning.”

“I accept yer terms.”

“Very well. I’ll take ye back to yer men, then see to having chambers made up for ye.”

“I appreciate yer offer of a chamber for myself. The men will be fine sleeping in the hall.”

His comment shouldn’t have bothered her. It was a common practice but it seemed callous. And in addition to Grant guardsmen, she’d have MacBeans in her hall. Rather, her father’s and Seona’s hall. It still seemed strange to think of it that way. Even stranger to be overrun by men of other clans.

* * *

Cameron accepted his father’s invitation to go riding with some trepidation. He’d listened to Cameron’s tale of Nan’s midnight visit with a frown, then suggested they leave the keep. Cameron worried the old man might try to push him into a betrothal with her. But perhaps he only wanted to spend some time together before Cameron left Sutherland again. Time they had missed in the last weeks, and, if Mary and the Rose healer had not worked their magic, time they would not have had at all.

They left the keep and headed north into the forest at an easy pace, a dozen Sutherland guards at a discreet distance behind them. The escort surprised Cameron. “Since when does the Sutherland chief need an escort on his own land?”

His father glanced around them. “Since Domnhall of the Isles started stirring up trouble. I am pleased ye have returned without harm from Rose.”

“Well and healed, thanks to them, aye.” Cameron inclined his head.

His father waved his gesture away. “I’ve given what ye learned a great deal of thought. Domnhall may be busy consolidating his hold on Ross, or he may take it into his head to use all those soldiers he gathered to overrun other territories. Like Sutherland. No one leaves the keep without an escort until we learn where Domnhall is and what he’s up to. No’ even to return to Rose.”

“Ye are that worried?” The subject surprised Cameron. He took a moment to consider, letting his gaze sweep the gaps between the trees around them. He saw nothing to concern him, but remained vigilant.

Sutherland nodded. “As ironic as it sounds, weak neighbors are dangerous to us.”

Cameron agreed. “But Domnhall is no’ the only one with an eye on someone else’s holding.”

“Aye?” Sutherland’s gaze finally cut to his son.

“I think ’tis highly likely Lady Grant intends to usurp Rose for her son before moving against the other southern Moray clans’ territories.”

“Has she become so bold?” His mount got a little ahead of Cameron’s, so he threw his question over his shoulder.

Cameron waited to reply until he caught up with his father. “With Albany’s backing, of course. If aught happens to James Rose, with or without a male heir, Grant may claim Rose through his new bride, Seona Grant.”

Sutherland laid the reins he held loosely over his mounts neck and regarded his son. “How likely is that?”

“’Tis hard to say.” Their horses settled into a companionable, side-by-side pace, making it easier for Cameron to continue. “James Rose had his own agenda in marrying the Grant lass. That’s true enough. He wants a male heir, even this late in life. But his real connection is with the lass’s mother. Now, Mhairi Grant doesna strike me as one to waste an opportunity. She certainly convinced James Rose to her way of thinking, and sacrificed her daughter to achieve her goals.”

Sutherland barked out a laugh. “I’m acquainted with Lady Grant. I’d say ye have described her—and her avaricious nature—verra well.”

“Then I must ask, are ye willing to stand by and let Grant take control of the south side of the firth?”

His father’s gaze shifted to Cameron. “Why should Sutherland care?”

Wasn’t it obvious? “Because the more holdings she amasses, the more wealth and power the lady will have. And potentially the more influence with Albany. She’ll strengthen Albany’s hold north of the Tay. Since Sutherland is known to ally with Domnhall, what effect do you think such an alliance will have on us?”

His father nodded and gave him a brief smile. “Ye confirm my faith in ye, in sending ye out as my eyes and ears. Ye have assessed the situation, and our danger, verra well.”

Warmth suffused Cameron at his father’s praise. “Then perhaps ye will be more amenable to a match with Rose. I have given some thought to the idea of wedding Lady Mary Rose.”

Sutherland snorted.

“Mary is the eldest daughter, the titular heir,” he continued, ignoring his father’s reaction. “If Rose fails in his quest to sire a son, Mary’s husband will be the one to hold Rose and keep it out of Grant hands.”

Sutherland reined in and regarded his son. “A wee convenient, would ye no’ say? Since ye are besotted with the lass.”

“No’ besotted, father. In love with. There is a difference.”

“Or ye have taken yer sense of obligation for her care of ye and turned it into something else entirely.”

Cameron felt his temper rise and controlled it. “Ye ken me better than that. Aye, I am the youngest and have done my best to stay as far away from the responsibility of yer position—and Ian’s when the time comes—as I can. So aye, ’tis ironic to hear me plead to wed a lass who will, for all we ken, one day be laird. Or she may no’. Her da may succeed in getting a son on his new bride. I find myself willing to take the chance, either way. Though I’d prefer to bring her back here, she is worth the risk of remaining at Rose.”

“Aye, ye always did ken yer own mind. And were an excellent observer of others.” Sutherland tightened his grip on his reins and kicked his horse into motion. “So ye love the lass.”

Cameron hurried to catch up, relieved his father seemed to understand. “I do. I have nay doubt, and it surprises the hell out of me. I love the lass, not her prospective position in the clan.”

“Then why are ye here?”

The question seemed so out of character, Cameron didn’t know how to answer. Then he thought back to the way his father had brought up the betrothal offer. “Wait a minute. Was this business with MacKay your way of testing my interest in Mary Rose?”

Sutherland threw back his head and laughed. “Ye always were a bright lad.” Then his expression grew serious. “Not the only reason, but an important one. Go to Rose. Win yer lass. I will support ye in this. I willna let Grant make Albany’s control of the north unassailable. If that can be accomplished without bloodshed, so much the better. If her father objects to yer betrothal, as ye say he has done with the younger daughters, remind him of Sutherland’s might, and of our alliances. If he’s as ambitious as ye say, ye should be able to convince him.”

“I hope ye are right. James Rose can be difficult when it comes to his daughters.”

“Then use yer keen powers of observation and discover why. Or, if ye think ye can get an answer without getting tossed in the Rose dungeon or getting yer head removed from yer shoulders, just ask the man.”

Cameron snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sutherland flicked the reins. “Do that,” he said as his mount cantered forward. “And keep me apprised,” he added over his shoulder. “I dinna want to hear what ye have done in another letter from James Rose.”

Cameron nodded as his father got out ahead of him. He was content to let him take the lead. He’d done what his father asked. It was time to do what he needed.